


An Immodest Proposal

by tardisjournal



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Bondage, Figging, Games Jack and Ianto Play, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisjournal/pseuds/tardisjournal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wants to try something new in bed. Ianto suspects he's about to become the victim of a prank. This isn't going well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jack lounged in the doorway of the Hub's kitchenette, deep into a story Ianto had heard twice already.  
  
“So, the alien transmissions came in twice a day for almost a month, each more menacing than the last. The final message stated that if we didn't turn all of Earth's natural resources over to them upon arrival, they'd blast us back into the Stone Age."  
  
Ianto smiled indulgently as he began to unwrap a small paper packet.  
  
“When they finally landed in the middle of the Snowdonia National Park we were pretty sure we'd be outgunned, but we raced there anyway, and discovered the aliens were only an inch tall! So we just stepped on them all. Good thing I was wearing my boots that da—what is _that?"_  
  
“Ginger root,” Ianto said, selecting a paring knife from his knife rack and beginning to remove the brown, crusty skin.  
  
“Thought so,” Jack breathed.  
  
“I found a coffee recipe that uses ginger and cinnamon, guaranteed to warm the blood on a chilly winter's afternoon. Jack? Are you alright?” Something in Jack's tone belatedly caught Ianto's attention and he looked up to see Jack staring at the root in Ianto's hands, his eyes alight.  
  
“Oh, I'm fine, just fine.” Jack's gaze followed Ianto's fingers as they deftly began to grate the ginger into a small bowl. “Have we got any more of that?”  
  
“Loads more. The shop was running a special; said it would keep indefinitely in the freezer. I didn't know you were such a fan.”  
  
A broad grin was forming on Jack's face. “Oh, I'm a fan all right. Do you know what we could do with that?”  
  
Ianto frowned, his brow creasing into deep folds. Something about Jack's expression told him he wasn't thinking about gourmet coffee drinks— _no one_ loved coffee that much, not even Jack—but Ianto had no idea what he was on about.  
  
“Loads of things, I suppose,” Ianto shrugged. “Make ginger chicken curry? Bake gingerbread? Brew ginger beer?  
  
“Those all sound good, especially the curry, but that's not what I meant.”  
  
Ianto set the grater and the bowl aside and wiped his hands with a towel.  
  
“Why don't you tell me what you do mean, Jack? Otherwise we'll be here all day.”  
  
“Do you trust me, Ianto?”  
  
“What has that got to do with...”  
  
“Just answer the question. Do you trust me?” Jack put his hand over Ianto's own, and slid his thumb across Ianto's wrist. Ianto felt his heart-rate speed up, as it always did when Jack touched him.  
  
“Of course I do. You know I do. But I don't see what that has got to do with...”  
  
Jack squeezed his wrist. “Do you _trust_ me, Ianto?”  
  
Ianto's breath caught in his throat. He dropped the towel and looked into Jack's eyes.  
  
“With my life.”  
  
Jack chuckled. “Good. Though I don't think it will come to that.”  
  
“What won't come to what?"  
  
Jack placed a finger against Ianto's lips. “Shh. I won't tell you. I'll show you.” Jack gave Ianto an enigmatic smile, scooped up the box of chocolate biscuits that Ianto had got out for the team, and departed. Ianto stared after him in bewilderment, his fingers straying to his lips where the warmth of Jack's touch lingered.


	2. Chapter 2

_Later that evening_  
  
  
“You want to put _what_? _WHERE?!?_ ”  
  
Ianto sat bolt-upright in bed, nearly upsetting the contents of a dish of ice water and causing Jack, who had been stretched out beside him, to sit up too. Jack steadied the bowl with one hand as his other came up to fend off any attack on his person that might be forthcoming.  
  
Clearly Jack had forgotten just how deep some 21st-century inhibitions ran. Because despite his earlier avowals of trust, Ianto was now staring at Jack with an incredulous expression that looked like it might turn furious at any moment.  
  
“Have you lost your _mind_?” the Welshman continued, his accent thickening adorably, as it always did when he was upset.  
  
“Ianto, if you'll let me explain...”  
  
Ianto's eyes narrowed as he glanced at what was in the bowl. “Ginger root. You can't be serious.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Did Owen put you up to this? Did you lose some sort of bet? Did _I_   lose some sort of a bet?"  
  
“Owen has nothing to do with this. And how could you, of all people, not remember losing a bet?”  
  
Ianto's eyes narrowed further until they nearly disappeared under his brows. “Remember last month when Owen's flat was flooded by the neighbor's loo, so he stayed here and we drank beer and played cards until the wee hours? I still can't remember how that night ended. And there's no CCTV footage. I've checked.”  
  
Jack patted Ianto on the knee.  
  
“I told you, nothing happened that night. You had a few too many and dozed off. I carried you to the couch and let you sleep it off. The CCTV just happened to be down for maintenance at the time.”  
  
“So you say.”  
  
Ianto was almost as good at steering conversations away from undesirable topics as Jack was, Jack realized. Time to get this one back on track.  
  
“Believe me or not, we were perfect gentlemen. I didn't even let Owen draw on your face with a Sharpie like he wanted to.” Jack smiled in fond remembrance of that nice, normal night in he didn't see a lot of those), then nodded at the bowl he was still holding, “As for this, it's just something I think you'll enjoy.”  
  
Ianto folded his arms. “And why would you think that?”  
  
Jack shrugged, trying his best to look disarming. “Because it's intense, and you like intense.”  
  
“I do?” Clearly, Ianto was not going to be persuaded easily.  
  
“Sure! You loved that warming lube we tried and that's a mere tingle compared to this.”  
  
Jack couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Ianto's stern facade cracked a little at the mention of the lube; he could swear Ianto's jaw wasn't clenched quite as tight as it had been. Just thinking about the way the younger man had gone wild when Jack had slathered the tingling lube on his cock and then fucked him slowly, until Ianto had begged him (at top volume with a lot of Welsh swear words thrown in) to finish him off, was putting a big smile on _his_ face. Jack suppressed the smile with effort, lest Ianto take it as more evidence he was about to become the victim of a prank.  
  
“And because it's been scientifically proven to increase orgasmic duration _and_ strength,” Jack continued, hoping to appeal to Ianto's reason, since his sense of adventure was falling down on the job.  
  
Ianto raised a skeptical eyebrow, but he did lie back on his elbows, which was a good sign.  
  
“Really, Jack. There are studies out there where people shoved ginger up their arse, wanked off, and measured the results.”  
  
“Well... Jack hedged, trying not to get distracted by the detailed image of a bunch of geeky men, clad only in lab coats and engaged in a circle jerk, that had just arisen in his mind. Or by the glorious sight of a nude Ianto, stretched out like he was being presented on a silver platter, _mere_ _inches_ _away._  
  
Jack swallowed hard and kept his gaze firmly fixed on Ianto's face. “They might not have been published _yet_. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details. There is lots of anecdotal evidence that it works, though,” Jack said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself.  
  
“Anecdotal. Huh. Have _you_ tried it?” Ianto asked.  
  
Jacks' grin did break free then, earning him an eye-roll from Ianto. “Of course you have,” Ianto muttered. “I forgot who I was talking to.”  
  
“Numerous times, with various roots. The Pepperroot of Rigel Four is the best, but I'm all out of that, I'm afraid. Ginger root is a really good substitute, though.” Jack assured him. “And I always had a great time. I wouldn't suggest if I didn't.”  
  
Ianto exhaled through his nose, turning it into a soft snort, but when he tilted his head he looked more curious than challenging.  
  
“Rigel Four? Do I even want to know?”  
  
Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Not much to tell. It's not all that interesting a planet.”  
  
“It must not be if that's what you were doing with your time.”  
  
Jack chuckled, but inside he was elated. Ianto's outrage had been replaced with sarcasm and he didn't look like he was about to punch Jack in the face anymore. Those were good signs. Time to seal the deal.  
  
Jack reached out and stroked Ianto's shoulder, then ran his fingers lightly down Ianto's bicep, not missing the goose pimples that trailed in their wake.  
  
“Hey. It's me, Jack. The one you trust with your life, remember?” Jack's fingers slid across to Ianto's chest and trailed around a nipple, causing Ianto to suck in an involuntary breath. Jack stroked the nipple lightly and watched Ianto's eyes widen. “And your body. Have I ever let you down?”  
  
“No,” Ianto confessed.  
  
Jack tweaked the nipple then, and Ianto gulped audibly.  
  
“So what do you say?”  
  
Ianto gave Jack a penetrating look. Jack did his best to appear calm and trustworthy, though his heart was hammering and his mind was jumping ahead to the glorious moment when this implacable man would let go and surrender to the deep-running currents of passion that ran beneath the facade.  
  
Finally, Ianto closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. When he opened his eyes again, his face was calm and his gaze steady. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but all right. Whatever you want _ **."  
**_


	3. Chapter 3

  
_"Whatever you want."_  
  
Jack lit up like a Christmas tree—no, more like a kid on Christmas morning, Ianto thought, watching Jack's lascivious grin melt into something softer and more radiant.  
  
“Thank you,” Jack said softly.  
  
Ianto felt a bit abashed at the gratitude he heard in Jack's tone. It was hardly what one would expect from the love-'em-and-leave-'em galactic Casanova that Jack styled himself to be, but Ianto knew Jack well enough to know there was far more to the man than that. Though some of his ideas were a little out there, and he had a tendency to get a bit carried away at times, his enthusiasm for sex was genuine and he always wanted his partners to have a good as time as he was having. Ianto suddenly felt a little silly for doubting him.  
  
Not that he'd ever admit it. He had to maintain some dignity, after all. As much dignity as a man who had just agreed to having a root vegetable shoved up his arse could have, at any rate.  
  
“This had better be worth it,” Ianto said, throwing a wary look at the bowl Jack was holding.  
  
Jack's wide, toothy grin returned. “Oh, it will be.”  
  
“What do you want me to do?”  
  
“You? Hmm...”  
  
Jack ran his eyes up and down Ianto's body for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Ianto resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. Jack never took that long to make up his mind—he had probably planned this whole thing out before he ever climbed down the ladder with that bowl precariously balanced in one hand. He was just enjoying the view. Might as well give him something to enjoy, then.  
  
Ianto stretched languorously, arching his back so that his hips jutted upwards. Jack's eyes, predictably, were drawn to Ianto's groin. Ianto reached over and ran his fingertips over his cock, feeling it harden under their combined attentions. He smiled as he watched Jack's eyes widen and darken at the sight.  
  
“Oh, Ianto,” Jack murmured, then shook his head, as if to break a spell Ianto was casting. He leaned over and set the bowl on the floor, then stood up. Ianto, still stroking his own cock, looked up at him.  
  
“You're so hot when you do that,” Jack declared. “I really hate to discourage you. But for now, I want you to lie on your stomach.”  
  
Ianto nodded and turned over, wriggling a little to bunch up the blanket so that it made a softer surface for his cock to nestle in. He turned his head to see that Jack was pulling a trunk out from under the bed. Ianto recognized it instantly—it's where Jack kept his toys.  
  
Jack crouched by the trunk but didn't open it right away.  
  
“Ianto, what's your safe-word?”  
  
“Pterodactyl”, Ianto said. “Do you think I'll need it?” He cast a curious glance at the box. What on earth did Jack have planned?  
  
“You always need one when you're trying something new,” Jack said. “Do I think you'll actually need to use it?” Jack put a hand on Ianto's shoulder. “I have no idea. And that's the point. I have no idea. And neither do you.”  
  
The seriousness of Jack's tone was making Ianto rethink his decision. “How intense is this stuff?” Ianto tried to catch a glimpse of the bowl, but it was out of his sight line.  
  
Jack shrugged. “It's different for every person. In my own experience, it tingles at first, then starts to heat up. Just like ginger candy does in your mouth. It's painful, but it's a good pain, you know? Some people, however, just think it hurts. The good news is, it's harmless, and the burning stops almost immediately after it's removed.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“That is, unless you're allergic to ginger. Then you could get a rash in a really unpleasant place, or even, in rare cases, experience systemic shock.”  
  
“Jack!”  
  
Jack chuckled. “Which, given the way you were handling it so freely yesterday, I don't think you are.” Jack picked up Ianto's hand and made a show of inspecting it. “Looks rash-free to me. That is one healthy, not to mention, sexy hand.” He sucked one of Ianto's fingers in his mouth. Ianto did roll his eyes then, but underneath him, his cock jumped against the blanket.  
  
Jack nibbled on the tip of Ianto's finger, then released it.  
  
“Just to be sure, have you ever had a reaction to stem ginger biscuits? Ginger ale? Gin Gins?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then you should be fine. And you'll let me know immediately if you're not, right?” Jack squeezed his shoulder. Ianto nodded.  
  
“I'm going to tie you to the bed now, all right?”  
  
Ianto swallowed. “I—sure.”  
  
“You don't sound so sure.”  
  
“Sorry, still wrapping my mind around the possibility of 'rash or systemic shock.'”  
  
“Which, we've determined, isn't gonna happen. But take your time.” Jack started rubbing circles on Ianto's shoulder and upper back.  
  
“And I didn't realize that tying me up would be necessary.”  
  
“It's not, technically speaking. But I think it will add to the experience.”  
  
Ianto felt his body relaxing into Jack's touch, as it invariably did when Jack caressed him with those strong, sure hands. His mind began to follow.  
  
He didn't have any allergies of any kind that he knew of, and certainly not to ginger, so why was he getting hung up on that? He realized it wasn't really that possibility that was bothering him, though he was a bit miffed that Jack had mentioned the possible side effects almost as an afterthought. He _had_ mentioned them, that's what was important. It's just... _ginger root?_ Up his _arse?_ The whole thing was just so mad.  
  
Or was it? It wasn't like Jack's cock hadn't already been there numerous times, and he had certainly enjoyed that. And then there was that memorable day about a month ago that Jack had convinced him to wear a butt-plug at work—all day. Ianto had been so turned on by the insistent, persistent stimulation that he hadn't even waited for the rest of the Team to leave that evening before he'd thrown Jack over his desk and started tearing off the man's clothes. He'd had his doubts about that one too in the beginning. How much crazier was this, really?  
  
As for the bondage, well, he should have expected that. Jack never had just one surprise in store. It was part of the man's charm, after all. Was he going to do this or not?  
  
Ianto rolled onto his side so that he was facing Jack and lay his head on the pillow. He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, allowing himself to sink into the mattress.  
  
“I trust you. Do it.”  
  
Jack leaned down and kissed him on the side of his mouth, then started rummaging in the box. Ianto closed his eyes and shivered from anticipation, and just a _frisson_ of fear of the unknown.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack stepped back to admire his handiwork. Ianto lay spread-eagle across his bed, each limb bound to a corner of the frame with a silken blue cord. The cords weren't all that tight—he'd deliberately left enough slack so that Ianto could wriggle around a bit (which he would once the ginger had had its way with him, Jack was certain) —but were secure enough to remind Ianto that he couldn't do anything but experience whatever it was Jack had in store for him.

Ianto certainly looked ready; or at least, a lot more ready than he had ten minutes ago. His body was less tense, and the one eye that Jack could see was closed.

Having deduced that his impromptu massage had done as much to relax Ianto as his words, Jack moved to the side of the bed and crouched down, put his hands on Ianto's shoulders, and began to knead them in earnest. As eager as he was to proceed to the main event, he didn't mind the opportunity to touch Ianto's body now that he had it. Not one bit.

Ianto let out an appreciative sigh as Jack's strong fingers set to work, easing the tension the young man habitually carried in his shoulders and upper back.

Jack moved his hands to massage Ianto's right bicep, relishing the feel of Ianto's powerful muscles under the smooth skin; then worked his way down and gave the forearm, wrist, and fingertips the same attention. He kissed each fingertip on Ianto's right hand and regretted that the other was bound in such a way, next to the wall, that he couldn't do the same with it, though he did massage as much of the arm as he could reach.

Jack turned his attention, and his hands, to Ianto's back then, admiring the assortment of moles randomly scattered across the creamy white skin as he went. When he got to his favorite mole, the large, flat one on Ianto's lower back, right before his buttocks started to curve, he leaned over and planted a kiss on it. Above him, Ianto chuckled, indulgent of Jack's fondness for that particular beauty mark. Jack cupped Ianto's arse in his palms, and began to knead more, noting that Ianto now was so relaxed he seemed boneless.

Jack slid a finger between Ianto's cheeks, and Ianto shivered again, but didn't tense up. Jack eased the finger back and forth, wedging it in until it rested flat between them. He wriggled it and Ianto shifted his hips in a way Jack took to be encouraging. Jack patted him on the arse and stood.

“Don't go anywhere.”

“Like I could.”

Jack retrieved the ginger root from the bowl, then climbed on the bed and positioned himself so that he was straddling Ianto's legs. Ianto wriggled his arse again, and Jack smacked it, lightly.

“Easy,” he said, pulling Ianto's cheeks apart. “Ready for this?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm not using lube, because we don't need any,” Jack said. “The ginger is naturally slippery, especially after being in the water.”

“Mm-kay,” Ianto said, and the trust implicit in that noncommittal remark made Jack glow inside.

He had peeled and carved the ginger root himself in the privacy of his bunker before inviting Ianto down that night. It was shaped like a dildo; narrow and rounded at the tip, gradually increasing in width for several inches until it narrowed again, then flared out to make a wide knob at the end. He'd shaped it to fit comfortably, so that Ianto would be aware of its presence but not have to stretch overmuch accommodate it. Unlike several similar-shaped but much larger toys in the box, the sensations would come from the effects of the ginger itself, not from the fullness that came from having it inside.

Jack lined up the root with Ianto's narrow, puckered entrance, and then pressed down, gently but firmly. Ianto pulled in his breath, then shifted his hips, allowing the root to slide down until the base of the knob was flush against his hole. Jack regarded the knob sticking out from Ianto's cheeks and his breath hitched at the sight.

He ran a hand across Ianto's arse, then tapped the base of the root lightly with a finger, causing Ianto's hips to twitch. “You're really sexy, you know that?

“Thanks?”

“You don't believe me?”

“It's hard to feel sexy with this thing sticking out of my arse.”

“You are, trust me. How does it feel?”

“Cold. Wet. Not at all what I expected.”

Jack chuckled. “That's because it's partially frozen. Don't worry, it'll get there.”

“If you say so.”

“Hey! I thought you said you trusted me.”

“I do. But after all that build-up, I was expecting to feel something.”

Jack grinned, and without warning, drew his hand back and smacked Ianto on the right cheek.

Ianto's head came off the pillow as far as it could go, and he turned his head to look balefully at Jack. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You said you wanted to feel something.”

Ianto laughed. “I did. You got me there.”

“Yes, I do. I've got you right where I want you, Ianto Jones.”

Jack smacked Ianto on the right cheek again, the sound of flesh on flesh making a satisfying “SMACK”. Ianto groaned, then allowed his head to flop back on the pillow, clearly resigned to his fate.

Jack switched to the left cheek and did the same.

SMACK! Jack paused and looked down at Ianto's face, which was getting flushed.

“You OK?”

“Yep.” Ianto's voice was a bit hoarse.

Jack smiled and settled into a rhythm then, alternating blows between cheeks, hitting just hard enough to warm Ianto's arse nicely. Though he had plenty of spanking implements, some of them pretty hard-core, in his toy box, there was no need for anything more intense. The ginger would play the starring role tonight; the spanking was just a supporting character.

That's not to say it was an unimportant character. In addition to being a pleasant diversion while they waited for the ginger to make itself known, every blow that fell would make Ianto's delectable arse muscles clench around the ginger, working it, and increasing the eventual effects.

Lucky ginger. What Jack wouldn't give be to be where it was now!

 _'Soon,'_   he promised himself, Ianto willing. And Jack was pretty sure he'd be willing. If his intuition was correct, Ianto would soon be so turned on by the effects of the ginger that he'd be up for anything.

“Feeling anything yet?” Jack asked, pausing to rest his hand and admire the bright red shade Ianto's arse had turned.

“A sore arse.”

“Wise guy. Anything else?” Jack tapped the base of the root again. Ianto wriggled against the blanket.

“I feel something. Not sure I'd call it burning, though. More just of a... sensation.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how intense is it?”

“Maybe a three."

“Good. I want you to give me a number on the scale every time I ask. Understand?”

“Yes, _Sir_.”

Jack felt arousal shoot down into his groin and bit down a groan at the “Sir”, which they had dispensed with in their personal life except in play. Ianto knew damn well what a turn-on it was in such moments, because Jack had told him. Well, he'd pay for that. Jack smacked Ianto just below the curve of his buttocks on the right side, and Ianto jerked under him. Jack smacked even harder on the left side, and Ianto bucked so hard his arse banged against Jack's erect cock. They both groaned then, and Ianto buried his face in the pillow.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Jack chided, rising up on his knees to get out of range, then smacking him again.

“Sorry,” Ianto said, his voice muffled by the pillow, not sounding sorry at all.

A few more minutes of this and Ianto was jerking and moaning under Jack in such a pornographic way it was making Jack's cock throb painfully. He needed a moment to cool off. He scooted back so that he was down by Ianto's ankles, and sat back on his heels. His hand was throbbing too, he realized. He considered getting an implement from the box after all—perhaps the wooden paddle with the rubber coating that always bounced so nicely off Ianto's arse.

“Number?”

“Four. And it feels different. Not as cold.”

“Good.”

Impulsively, Jack leaned over and licked a stripe across Ianto's red right cheek, earning a small gasp from Ianto. Then Jack blew on the area he had just licked.

“Oh, god, Jack,” Ianto murmured. Which only encouraged Jack to do it a few more times.

Jack estimated that things were about to really heat up, as it were. The spanking and the teasing were having the desired effect of turning Ianto on—maybe a little too much. He realized that if he didn't get Ianto away from the blanket and the mattress he was not-so-subtly moving against, he'd come any minute. Not that there was anything wrong with that—but it was too soon, and Jack wanted to be the one touching Ianto when he finally came.

He smacked Ianto's arse again.

“Hold still,” Jack ordered, and clambered off the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a tug on the cord binding his right wrist and Ianto felt it slither free. He heard Jack moving around him and the three other cords followed suit. Ianto followed orders and didn't move, not even when Jack climbed back on the bed and knelt behind him again.  
  
Until Jack pinched him on one sore cheek, causing him to flinch involuntarily.  
  
“Ouch! What was that for?” Ianto said, though what he really wanted to know was what Jack was up to. He hadn't expected to be released so soon.  
  
“Come on, up you get,” Jack instructed. “All fours,” Jack said.  
  
Ianto got his hands underneath him and pushed himself up into position, sighing at the loss of the slightly scratchy blanket—and the firm mattress underneath—against his cock. He had been close; he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.  
  
Jack ran his fingertips along Ianto's arse and Ianto shivered.  
  
“That feels so good,” he murmured.  
  
“Thought you might like it,” Jack said, and Ianto could _hear_ the smirk that unaccompanied it.  
  
Spanking was something else Jack had turned him on to, although unlike the innovative use of root vegetables, that was at least something he'd experimented with before. Lisa had enjoyed being spanked and Ianto had been happy to oblige the few times she had requested it, and one or two times she hadn't. He'd let her try it on him once, but he had felt so ridiculous being bent naked over the bed, and dismayed at how much it had hurt, that he'd decided it wasn't his thing.  
  
For some reason, it was different with Jack. He wouldn't say he was into spanking _per se_ , even now, but he was definitely into Jack, more than he'd been into anyone in his life. He was constantly surprised by what was enjoyable when it was Jack he was experiencing it with. Ianto had no idea whether it was Jack's century-plus of sexual experience, those damn pheromones, the fact that Ianto was in a different place in his life than he was a year ago, or all of the above, but his sex life was definitely more adventurous than he'd ever dreamed it would be.  
  
Take right now, for instance, Ianto thought, as Jack rearranged him—he knew Jack's spanking technique well enough to know that Jack had been holding back this evening. Though the strokes had been solid and well-placed, Ianto knew Jack was capable of hitting harder, and for much longer. That's not to say his arse wasn't tingly and sore—it was, so much so he wasn't looking forward to sitting down comfortably anytime soon—but Jack had pushed Ianto much further in the past.  
  
Why would Jack hold back? Because he wanted to focus on something else, clearly. And it wasn't hard to guess what it was.  
  
“Number?” Jack said from behind him.  
  
“Five.”  
  
The number alone didn't do the experience justice, though. He felt much more aware of the intruding root than he should have by this point. Normally after about ten or fifteen minutes of having a foreign object lodged inside him, the sensation decreased (it was a mark just how how far Ianto had come sexually that he even _knew_ that) and that definitely wasn't the case here. The root still didn't feel particularity warm, but it did feel more _present._  
  
“Good,” Jack said, moving forward to drape himself over Ianto's body. Ianto groaned as he felt Jack's hard cock dig into his arse, and his hand wrap around Ianto's cock.  
  
“Don't come until I tell you,” Jack whispered in Ianto's ear, then sank his teeth lightly into the back of Ianto's neck, right by the shoulder. Ianto sucked in his breath and dropped his head, giving Jack better access to the spot. Jack licked, then sucked, then bit it again. It felt like a current of electricity passed between them at that point, then went straight to his groin. Ianto knew he'd have a hell of bruise on the spot tomorrow, but for the moment, he couldn't care less.  
  
Jack sucked at Ianto's neck, and stroked his balls with maddening little touches calculated to drive Ianto into a frenzy. It was working. Something else was happening as well—Ianto was feeling a lot of sensation deep inside where there usually wasn't much at all. The root seemed to have grown a lot bigger. He had the sudden fear he would have to run to the bathroom, and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe through it. His pulse rate, already high, ratcheted up further, and he fidgeted under Jack's body, telling himself he didn't have to go, he didn't, it was just his body's response to the presence of the thing inside him.  
  
Apparently, it was true, because the urge passed within a minute or two. Ianto sighed in relief.  
  
Jack planted a kiss on the spot he'd been worrying, then blew on the abused skin, cooling it. “You OK?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ianto said, surprised at how gravelly his voice sounded. “It's just getting a little... intense.”  
  
And it was. He could feel a definite gingery sensation now, a burn, deep inside, accompanied by an increasing urge to move. His limbs trembled with the effort to stay in place. He wasn't sure what to do with all the sensation, but his cock seemed to be enjoying it, because his erection never flagged.  
  
“Number?”  
  
“Six—maybe seven.” Ianto laughed a strange, demented laugh and pressed up against Jack. “Oh god, this is insane.”  
  
“Told ya so,” Jack said, his own voice rough. “Let me know when it gets to eight.”  
  
Jack removed his hand and lifted off him, causing Ianto to feel bereft and more agitated than ever. “What? Where—OW!”  
  
A strong hand hit Ianto's arse, hard, and he jerked forward, nearly whacking his head against the wall. But that was the least of his concerns. The pain of the blow was nothing compared to the feeling that shot though him— _inside._ It was like the root was setting fire to his very core. The feelings arrowed down his cock, making him so aroused it hurt.  
  
“Oh my g—OW!” Jack hit him again, and Ianto felt like he might explode from all the sensation.  
  
“Jack, please!” Jack hit him again. “Ja—agh!"  
  
Explode, yes, and he knew exactly where he wanted to explode from.  
  
Jack hit him again. “ _Duw_! Jack! I can't... eight! It's an eight.”  
  
In a flash, Jack was off the bed and kneeling beside it. He slid his hands around Ianto's waist and tugged him toward the edge of the bed. “Come on, then. Sit.”  
  
Ianto turned his head and peered at Jack.  
  
“Sit?” He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. His brain wasn't working too well at the moment, maybe he'd misunderstood.  
  
Jack patted the side of the bed. “Sit.”  
  
Ianto's mind seemed to have disconnected from his body, because figuring out how to manage that was harder than it should have been. Finally, he pressed his hands into the mattress, swung his feet to the floor, and then carefully lowered his backside to the bed.  
  
It hurt when his sore arse brushed the blanket, but that was nothing compared to what he experienced as he lowered himself the rest of the way. The mattress pressed against the base of the root, pushing it deeper into his body and sending him into sensation overload. Ianto threw his head back and cried out.  
  
Jack was staring at him with something like rapture. He reached out and stroked Ianto's forehead with one hand.  
  
“Beautiful. You're so beautiful like this,” Jack murmured. Then he pushed Ianto's legs apart with his other hand, leaned forward, and took the head of Ianto's cock into his mouth.  
  
It was a wonder that Ianto didn't “explode” right then and there.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack had thought Ianto's forehead, creased with delicious agitation and coated with a light sheen of sweat, had felt warm. That was nothing compared to his cock, which was flushed a deep red, almost purple, and was radiating enough heat to make a furnace envious.  
  
He slid his mouth down the head of Ianto's cock and touched the tip of his tongue to Ianto's slit, and was rewarded with a guttural moan, urging him on. Jack slid his mouth down another inch and was a bit startled when Ianto, without warning, lifted his hips and pushed himself deeper into Jack's mouth.  
  
“ _Yes!”_   Jack thought. This was what he wanted; to make Ianto forget his polite reserve the way he had forgotten about his suit jacket, which had fallen from the chair-back and was currently laying in an untidy heap on the floor.  
  
Jack realized the time for teasing was past, so he slid down the length of Ianto's cock, taking it all in, pausing only to give himself a chance to adjust his breathing when it nudged the back of his throat. He inhaled through his nose and kept going. Ianto groaned his approval. Jack pulled nearly all the way back, sucking hard, then slid forward again until his nose nudged Ianto's crotch.  
  
Jack started to pull back again, and Ianto grabbed his hair to hold him in place. Jack closed his eyes in ecstasy. Ianto rose up off the bed a few inches and hips jerked forward once, twice, and then he was coming, fast and hard down Jack's throat.  
  
Jack swallowed several times and waited as Ianto shuddered through his orgasm. Finally, Ianto let out a deep sigh and made to sit back, only to utter a strangled cry and shoot half-way off the bed.  
  
Jack immediately realized what was wrong. The ginger root. It had to be near unbearable now. Best to get that out before the endorphin haze subsided and it really started to smart.  
  
Jack motioned for Ianto to lie down on his side. Ianto started at him, a bit wild-eyed, but allowed himself to be guided. Jack scissored Ianto's legs apart, took hold of the base of the root, and arched an eyebrow in Ianto's direction. Ianto gave him a frantic nod in return. Jack pulled.  
  
At first the root didn't want to come, but then Ianto's muscles relaxed enough so that Jack could slide it out. As it slid over the highly sensitized skin, Ianto made a noise that rose quite a bit at the end—not a shriek, exactly, but somewhere in the neighborhood. Then he flopped down on his side and went limp.  
  
Jack made a dash for the _en suite_ bathroom, wrapped the ginger in a piece of tissue, tossed it in the bin, and was back within seconds. He seated himself by Ianto's knees and stroked Ianto's side, gazing in rapt adoration at the dazed, faraway look on Ianto's face.  
  
“You in there?” Jack asked.  
  
Ianto turned his head to look at Jack, and his eyes were so wide it was nearly comical. “I—I'm not sure,” he said.  
  
“Well, if you don't know, who does?” Jack teased.  
  
“I never felt anything like this,” Ianto managed, which wasn't really an answer to the question, but worked for Jack anyway. “Wow,” he added.  
  
Jack resisted the urge to say, “I told you so” and merely said, “Can I get you anything? Cigarette? Cold water? Shot of whisky?”  
  
Ianto managed a playful punch to Jack's arm. “Don't smoke. You know that. Water would be great, though.”  
  
Jack moved to the dresser, where he'd left a pitcher of ice water, poured two glasses, and returned to the bedside. Ianto propped himself on one elbow to take the glass and Jack noticed, with an absurd surge of pride, that his hand he held out to Jack was shaking a bit. Ianto had taken out a vicious Weevil with a baseball bat, and subdued armed alien meat traffickers with nothing but a stun gun, but Jack had reduced him to a quivering mess. Jack smiled to himself. He still had it.  
  
Jack downed his own water in two gulps, put the glass on the floor, and then climbed into the bed, where he curled himself around Ianto's body. The heat was still coming off him in waves.  
  
Ianto shuddered again, set his glass carefully on the floor, then pressed himself against Jack. His arse brushed against Jack's cock and Jack groaned in spite of himself. He didn't want to rush Ianto through this experience, but there was only so much a man can take.  
  
Ianto, bless his heart, snaked his arm behind his back, found Jack's cock wedged between them, and ran his fingertips along the side of it. Jack sucked in his breath.  
  
“Is this for me?” Ianto asked with a throaty chuckle.  
  
“Ye—yeah!” Jack replied, feeling his ability to make witty banter drowning in the sea of need that was rising in him.  
  
Ianto flipped over to his other side, scooted down a couple of feet, and without preamble, ran his tongue along the length of Jack's cock. Then he glanced up at Jack, tilting his face so that he was peering through his lashes, and Jack nearly came right then and there.  
  
“Is that what you want?”  
  
“Yeah!” Jack said again, enthusiasm making up (he hoped) for his lack of verbal ability.  
  
Ianto smiled and licked Jack's cock again, along the other side, then underneath. He teased the ridge of it with the tip of his tongue.  
  
“ _Ianto..._ ” Jack moaned.  
  
Ianto grinned and slid his mouth over Jack's cock, while grasping his balls firmly in one hand. Jack arched backward, uncoiling his limbs into a more relaxed position, while making sure he didn't lose one bit of contact with Ianto's mouth. His eyes fell closed and he lost himself in delicious wet warmth.  
  
Ianto set to work, and being that he was as diligent and thorough about this as anything else he set his mind to, it wasn't long before Jack was trembling all over with his imminent release.  
  
And then Ianto pulled away. Jack's eyes flew open and he realized with alarm that Ianto was _getting off the bed_.  
  
“What's wrong?” Jack croaked in alarm.  
  
Ianto grabbed something out of the toy box that Jack couldn't see, then pressed it into Jack's palm.  
  
Jack felt something small and hard—a plastic bottle.  
  
“Lube?” Jack asked, as if he'd never seen it before, only heard vague rumors.  
  
“Lube” Ianto affirmed. He made as if to sit down on the bed, then seemed to think better of it and eased himself back down so that he was lying on his side, wedged in next to Jack. “It's the regular kind, you'll note. I think there's quite enough tingling already, if you catch my meaning.”  
  
Jack did. “Oh! Fuck!”  
  
His verbal ability still AWOL., it seemed.  
  
“That's the general idea, yes.”  
  
“You really want me to? Are you sure you're up for it?”  
  
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn't.”  
  
“I know, I'm just...”  
  
“Are you going to fuck me, Jack Harkness, or are you just going to gawp at me all night?”  
  
By way of reply, Jack thumbed the bottle open, dumped a liberal amount into his palm, and stroked it on his cock.  
  
“That's more like it,” Ianto chuckled. He rolled onto his stomach and shoved a pillow under his groin, elevating his arse to just the angle Jack liked it. “Come on, then.”  
  
Damn, but Jack loved it when Ianto was bossy in bed.  
  
Jack scooted behind him and slid one lubed finger into Ianto's arse, then a second, smoothing lube all around as he went. Ianto shuddered at the contact of the chilly slick, and then pressed backwards against Jack's fingers, indicating he was ready.  
  
Well, so was Jack. Without further ado, he knelt up, positioned himself, and pushed inside Ianto. It was tight, smooth as velvet, and quite warm in there, and there was just enough after-burn of the ginger to add a devilish little tingle to it all. It took every bit of Jack's control to keep a steady pace so it wouldn't end too soon.  
  
It ended soon anyway, but neither of them minded.


	7. Chapter 7

The sensation of pins and needles in his left arm woke Ianto from a strange dream where he could fly, but only a few feet off the ground. For a second he lay there, blinking at the blank wall, confused as to where he was and why he wasn't still flying, but the persistent prickling quickly brought him back to reality. He groaned and rolled off his arm, which was trapped underneath him, and told himself, not for the first time, that they really needed to get a larger bed down here. Jack's military-style bunk was sturdy enough for play, but not nearly roomy enough for two grown men to sleep comfortably. Or even one grown man, in Ianto's opinion. For he was currently the bed's sole occupant, and he still felt cramped. If he hadn't been shagged into blissful oblivion earlier, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep as long as he had.  
  
Ianto winced as the blood flow returned and made the pain in his arm worse, then proceeded to take inventory of the rest of his body. Except for the arm, he felt pretty damn good, he realized. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, and there was a pleasant twinge in his arse to remind him of the activities of the night before. He smiled at the wall and then, mindful of the arm that was now throbbing in protest, he sat up.  
  
The bowl that had held the ginger was lying on the floor beside the bed. It looked so innocuous now, it was hard to believe how worked up the sight of it had made him the night before. What had he been so worried about, exactly? He shook his head a little. Jack had been right. Again.  
  
Well, he knew one thing. He'd never look at that particular bowl the same way again. Or ginger root, for that matter. Especially ginger root. He seriously doubted whether he could stand in the kitchenette and prepare that ginger and cinnamon coffee without getting ridiculously turned on, which wouldn't be a bad thing, necessarily, except that hard-ons at work were so awkward.  
  
But if he could somehow manage it, he realized, he could serve the coffee to Jack during a meeting—with a curl of fresh ginger root on top, nonetheless, as a subtle reminder of their sexcapades. The look on Jack's face would be well worth it. Ianto chuckled. There was a team meeting scheduled today that would do nicely.  
  
And if he couldn't manage it, well, there were other things they could do with all that ginger he'd bought. Ianto rose to collect his clothes, and began make a mental list. Jack and ginger root figured prominently in each line item.  
  
As if summoned by his thoughts, Jack emerged from the toilet, clad in boxers and a white t-shirt.  
  
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty. I thought you were going to sleep the day away,” Jack said.  
  
Ianto fumbled his mobile out of his pants pocket and frowned. “It's half-past six,” he pointed out.  
  
“Late for you, isn't it?”  
  
“Only when I'm sleeping in that torture device you call a bed.”  
  
Jack closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Ianto. “I'll show you torture.”  
  
Ianto slipped his arms around Jack's waist, pulled him in tight, and kissed him the lips. “Promises, promises.”  
  
“And I always deliver,” Jack gave Ianto's butt a squeeze. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Fine, thank you, _Sir._ ” Ianto replied.  
  
Jack gave a mock growl, then swatted the area he'd just been squeezing. “Just fine? I must be losing my touch.”  
  
“Ow! OK, better than fine. Amazing, actually.”  
  
“Glad to hear it.”  
  
“I'm not sure about the duration. But it definitely increased the strength, as advertised.”  
  
Jack drew back his head and peered at Ianto. “What?”  
  
“The ginger. You said it would “increase orgasmic duration and strength.”  
  
“Oh. Right! I did.”  
  
Ianto favored Jack with the first eye-roll of the day.  
  
“So I was thinking,” Ianto continued, “That more experimentation might be necessary.”  
  
Jack's eyes widened. “You were?”  
  
“Absolutely. Not now, unfortunately. We have a meeting to prepare for. But soon.”  
  
Ianto reluctantly untangled himself from Jack and moved to the chair where he had left his clothes. He frowned when he saw his jacket on the floor, then shrugged, picked it up, brushed it off, and laid it neatly on the seat. He extracted his stopwatch from the pocket and turned to set it on the dresser. “We'll need this, of course.”  
  
Jack looked positively giddy. “We will?”  
  
Oh yes. For the results to be accurate, they have to be repeatable and verifiable.”  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“It's proper scientific procedure.”  
  
“I'm all for that."  
  
“Good. Because I was thinking of a series of experiments we can do, actually.”  
  
“A... series?”  
  
“Yes. The first one will be to see how long _you_ can handle a root like that one up your arse, before you beg me to make you come.”  
  
Jack opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out at first. He licked his lips and tried again. “I don't beg,” he pointed out.  
  
Ianto licked his lips, far more suggestively than Jack had, and waggled his fingers. “You will.”  
  
Ianto turned away, but not before catching the look of open-mouthed astonishment—followed by the flush of arousal—on Jack's face.  
  
He smiled to himself and picked up his shoes.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LiveJournal community [hc_bingo](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/), Round Four, for the square “burns”.
> 
> Originally posted July 22, 2013.


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